Page 133 of Bleed with Me

“You mean Dr. Zhumagulov?” Jessica arched an elegant brow, scrutinizing me.

“Yes,” I confirmed impatiently. “Where is he?”

Jessica’s expression didn’t change.

“I’m afraid I can’t disclose the location of our employees,” she replied smoothly. “Especially not when they’re currently working.”

“Working?” I echoed incredulously. “His brother almost died.”

“And Dr. Zhumagulov is exactly where a trauma surgeon should be after an accident,” she said, waving to the nurse standing a few feet from us.

My teeth clashed, my heart racing.

“Listen. I don’t have time for this. I need to see my husband.”

“Your what?” Jessica blinked, and the nurse beside us gaped at me, mouth hanging open.

“My husband,” I repeated. “Nina Zhumagulov. Pleasure to meet you.”

“Interesting,” she murmured, studying me closely. “Dr. Zhumagulov neglected to mention he had a wife.”

“Dr. Zhumagulov neglects to mention a lot of things,” I retorted. The corner of Jessica’s mouth twitched.

“That is very true,” she said, nodding as she unlocked her phone. “But I still need to confirm your words.”

I exhaled exasperatedly, bouncing on my feet while she called someone. It took only a few seconds, but for me it felt like an eternity until she finally said where Dorian was.

The fifth floor. VIP section.

The elevator, the walls, the stairs, everything was just a blur as I hurried there. Dorian converted an entire corner of the ICU into a secure unit for high-profile patients. Two security guards stood nearby, dressed in black suits that screamed Zhumagulov.

They didn’t stop me. Maybe Jessica had warned them, or perhaps they simply assumed that anyone walking out of the executive elevator belonged there. Either way, I wasn’t about to correct them.

Carefully, I pushed the door open. The room was quiet. Machines beeped steadily in the background while soft lights illuminated the spacious intensive care suite. Malin lay motionless in the hospital bed, surrounded by enough equipment to keep a small spaceship operational. Tubes disappeared beneath blankets, bandages covered part of his head and one arm.

For the first time since seeing the photographs, the reality of what happened settled heavily in my chest. Malin looked… human.

My gaze shifted from the bed to the man sitting beside it. Dorian hadn’t noticed me. He sat slumped in the armchair, elbows resting on his knees, staring at the floor between his shoes. His surgical scrubs were stained with dried blood, dark circles shadowed his eyes, and his usually neat hair looked as though he’d spent hours dragging his hands through it.

My heart broke. This wasn’t the confident surgeon who drove me insane. This was just a concerned brother.

Slowly, I stepped inside and closed the door behind me. The click finally pulled him from his thoughts, and he lifted his head.

Time stopped as our gazes met.

“Nina?” Dorian whispered as if he couldn’t believe I was really there. I crossed the room in record time, sat on his lap, and hugged him tightly. His arms wrapped around me, his face buried in my neck, and he exhaled a deep, shaky breath.

He was trembling. The mighty surgeon who saved lives daily was barely holding it together in my embrace. My heart broke all over again. Dorian wasn’t untouchable after all.

“How did you get here?” he asked after maybe a minute of hugging the life out of me. Pulling away, I looked into his devastated face.

“By your car,” I replied, trying to lighten the mood at least a little. “It’s amazing.”

He exhaled something that could be widely interpreted as a laugh, nuzzling his face into my neck.

“You know what I mean, you menace,” he whispered. “Mom and Zyon are in my office, waiting. But you’re here.”

“Well,” I sighed, knowing I had crossed a line with Jessica, but I didn’t care when he was at stake. “I may have told your boss that I’m your wife.”